CHAPTER I

 
"Dear Mother – between friend and friend,
Prose answers every common end;
Serves in a plain and homely way,
To express the occurrence of the day,
Our health, the weather, and the news,
What walks we take, what books we choose,
And all the floating thoughts we find
Upon the surface of the mind." Southey's Cowper.
 

Ship Castor and Pollux, off Staten Island, 9 o'clock, Monday morning, June 1st, 1835.

Dearest Mother, – We are fast nearing land. The pilot is already on board; and I shall soon set my foot upon the new world which is henceforth to be my home.

In fulfilment of my promise, I begin thus early my journal of daily events, which I shall transmit to you from time to time as opportunity shall offer.

A torrent of emotion rushes through my mind, pleasure mingled with pain – pleasure at the prospect of the happiness, I may reasonably expect in the society of a beloved husband – and pain at the thought of the long time which will probably intervene before I shall see the loved members of our home-circle, and also from the assurance that when I set my foot upon the shores of the Western continent, the broad Atlantic will roll between us.

But I must turn from these sad musings to the scene around me. The passengers are all wide awake; Some are hurrying to and fro in search of baggage, while others, having succeeded in getting their trunks brought on deck, are sitting upon them and awaiting their search by the Custom House officers. But by far the greater part are standing in groups, leaning over the railing of the ship, eagerly gazing at the shore, talking earnestly of friends whom they expect to meet, or expressing curiosity at the sight of America, the birth place of the immortal Washington.

My dear Frank pointed out to me the harbor with the skiffs flying in every direction – the forest of masts with their national flags – the lofty spires pointing heaven-ward – and the stately domes looming up to view, while directly before us are the wharves lined with extensive ware-rooms and store-houses. But I must close the first page in my journal.

Crawford, Tuesday, June 2d.

We reached New York in season for dinner at the Astor House, and for the evening boat to Providence, from which place we took the stage-coach for Crawford; and arrived here about noon. At the public house, which I should judge was a mile distant, we alighted; and I saw a broad-shouldered, well-dressed colored man come eagerly forward and seize the Doctor by the hand, while he cast a glance of curiosity at me.

"This is your young Mistress, Cæsar," said Frank.

Cæsar took off his hat, bowing and scraping in the most approved style; and when I gave him my hand, he exhibited a splendid set of ivory, extending almost from ear to ear.

My husband went with me into the public house, where I remained until he and Cæsar had attended to the baggage. I spent the interim in picturing to myself a rural cottage with a luxuriant vine running over the door. This same vine had always figured largely in my imaginary home, but my fancy had not advanced to the interior, when Frank came to call me.

I cannot account for the impression I had formed, that the Doctor was not a man of wealth; I had even pleased myself vastly with plans of industry, prudence and economy, by which I intended to provide necessaries and even luxuries for the family. The Doctor had carefully avoided all description of our future home, answering me only by smiles, if I ventured to point out a pretty cottage, and to ask whether it resembled ours.

During the drive, Cæsar was eager to tell all the news. He said, "I'se driven de carriage down to meet Mass'r Frank ebery time de stage hab come in for two days. I told Missus," he continued, "better go ebery day for a month, than have young Missus come, and nobody pear dere to welcome her to dis yer home."

Frank laughed heartily as he said, "Your young Mistress will be obliged to you for sustaining the honor of the family."

I was so much interested in looking about me, and in listening to Cæsar's talk with his master, that I had no time to reconcile the idea of a handsome carriage, span of horses, and colored driver with my husband's supposed circumstances – a train of thought which had been started before I left the Inn. But now we were drawing near my new home; and my heart began to beat very fast. I put my hand into Frank's, who pressed it tightly in his.

I was about to go through a very trying scene, to meet a mother and sister, while yet a perfect stranger to them, I feared they would deem me unworthy of their son and brother. My color came and went, if I can judge from the burning of my cheeks. It was with great difficulty, I could keep from weeping. I am sure Frank understood my feelings, for he very gently kissed my forehead, and whispered, "Cora, you will love my mother, and I am very sure she will love you."

I forced back my tears, and tried to show him that I meant to deserve their love. I gave such a start of surprise, when the carriage stopped at the door of a noble mansion that Frank laughing asked, "What?"

"Surely, this is not your house," said I.

"It is our house," he replied in a low tone, as he handed me from the carriage. I had hardly reached the ground, before I was caught in the arms of one of the loveliest girls I ever saw. She kissed me repeatedly; and then sprang to her brother, saying, "now, Frank, that's just like you, not to tell us what a darling she was!"

By this time we had ascended the steps leading from the front entrance, where stood a fine looking woman, (of course she is, for Frank is the image of her), who folded her arms about her new daughter with such a motherly embrace that my heart was at rest. The tears filled my eyes at the melting tone in which she said, as she held our hands joined in hers; "Welcome, my dear son and daughter!" – as if she would fain have blessed our union. She evidently restrained her feelings, and taking my hand under her arm, led me into a large parlor, where there had been a fire on the hearth.

"We hardly expected you to-day," she said, after we were seated; "but Emily would not rest until we came over here from the cottage."

"Don't you reside here?" I asked in surprise.

Mrs. Lenox smiled, and looked at her son, who said pleasantly, "You see, mother, there is very little of Eve about her."

"More than you imagine," I replied; "but I was constrained to suppress my curiosity, as I received such indefinite replies to my questions."

"After to-morrow," added he, "I will answer as many as you please; till then I see one who is ready to answer before she is asked."

Just then, Emily had stolen beside me, and putting her arm around my waist said, "Come with me, if you are not too tired; and I will show you your room."

I went with her; and, my dear mother, I ought to be very happy, and grateful to God for casting my lot in such a pleasant place, and among such kind friends. As soon as we were alone, Emily again embraced me, and said, "I shall love Frank better than ever, for bringing me so dear a sister; now he will be contented to remain at home, instead of roving all over creation." She spoke of her brother with great affection, and said with enthusiasm, "Everybody loves Frank!"

She then pointed out one thing after another, each dear to me as an expression of his love, and his desire to render me happy in my new home. To-morrow I hope to give you a description of the house and grounds, over which, after dinner, I was duly installed mistress.

I have written a long time; but my heart is full, and I find it a relief to tell you how kind my Heavenly Father has been to me.

CHAPTER II

 
"Here blend the ties that strengthen
Our hearts in hours of grief,
The silver links that lengthen
Joy's visits when most brief." Bernard Barton.
 

Wednesday, June 3d.

Dear Mother, – I have just returned from a pleasant drive with Mother, Frank and Emily. You will wonder that I can so soon address any other but yourself by that endearing word, mother; indeed it cost me an effort. But this morning, she came in soon after breakfast, and when I said, joyfully, "good morning, Mrs. Lenox," she kissed me tenderly and said, "can you give me no dearer name, my child?" I looked up in her face, and felt that I could call her "mother." I wish, I could describe to you the impression, she makes upon me. She is very gentle and tender in her manner, particularly so to her only son. She is also cheerful; but I think she must have known what sorrow is, heart-felt, abiding sorrow. Though the expression of her countenance is placid and touchingly sweet, yet, as I watched her yesterday, I could see her eyes fill with tears as she looked at Frank.

I never saw a son more affectionate and respectful to his mother. There is a perfect understanding between them. It was his earnest wish to have her and his sister live with him, as the house is very large; but she thought it not best. The property was left him by his father, and he has put up for her a beautiful English cottage, separated from his dwelling only by the garden, while the carriage drive passes from one to the other.

I promised you a description of my new home. Imagine yourself entering from the street an avenue lined with trees, (linden I think) and winding for about twenty or thirty rods up to a stately mansion. From the carriage drive, you ascend ten or twelve steps to the front entrance, over which is a very fine portico supported by large pillars which are completely covered with a running-rose vine. Entering the outer door, you stand in a spacious hall, which runs directly through the house and opens in the rear upon a piazza extending the entire length of the building. From this piazza there is a most enchanting prospect. Blue mountains skirt the horizon, while a beautiful lake nestles in their bosom.

There are four large rooms on the ground floor, two parlors in front, a dining-room and a sitting room in the rear. In addition to these there are wings on each side of the house. One is entered from the sitting-room, and is devoted to Frank's library and cabinet; the other enters from the dining-room and is occupied by Mistress Phebe Lenox in her culinary department.

In the second story there are five chambers, together with two in the attic. Cæsar has a neat room finished off over the carriage house, which he and Phebe appropriate to themselves.

The fifth room on the second floor I shall not forget to describe. It is over the rear hall, opening from our room; and my kind husband has fitted it up as my boudoir. I can't conceive how he knew so exactly what I should like. Emily says he selected everything himself, and that it has been a subject of mirth for her that he should know the minutiæ of a lady's toilet. There is one large French window which opens like a door upon the balcony over the piazza. Rose-colored curtains are draped from it, so that I can be secluded at pleasure. Before the window stands an elegant easy-chair, large enough for both of us, and near it a table holding a desk, with every convenience for writing. At this I am now sitting, and I prophesy it will be a favorite resort.

Two-thirds of the length of the room opposite the window is occupied by a wardrobe of the most convenient kind, containing fixtures for hanging dresses, also shelves and drawers.

Opposite the door leading from my room, is a dressing table standing before a long mirror. This table is furnished with everything which even a French lady can wish in the making of her toilet, and is equally tasteful and convenient.

In the corner beyond the wardrobe, stands a beautiful piece of Italian statuary, representing a young girl bearing a basket of fruit. She has such a touching expression upon her lovely countenance that I can hardly persuade myself she is not imploring my sympathy.

I have described my own little boudoir more particularly than any other apartment, that you may be able to think of me where I shall spend most of my time.

Here I may court the muses. Indeed, I feel more than half inspired already, by the magnificent landscape before me.

Afternoon.

I didn't quite understand, yesterday, what Frank meant about answering my questions to-day; but while I was busily writing this morning, I heard a gentle knock at the door. I sprang up and opened it for my husband.

He smiled when he saw how I was engaged, and wheeling the chair from the table to the window, sat down and took me on his knee.

"Well, Cora, how do you like your new home? Phebe has just expressed her opinion that 'you'll be wonted soon.'"

"Oh, it's beautiful!" I exclaimed, "why didn't you tell me, that I might have the pleasure of anticipating these beauties?"

"I could not be quite sure what fancies floated in your mind, and I had rather surprise than disappoint you."

"Oh, Frank, you surely know me better than that! but look there," said I, pointing to the beautiful lake before us. We looked in silence for a moment, when he laughed, and inquired if I had no questions to ask him. "I am ready," said he, "to undergo a regular catechising."

In an instant all my former fancies of my husband's poverty, and of my assisting him darted through my mind. I suppose, I looked rather sober, for he turned my face toward him with a questioning look.

"I imagined, you were poor," said I, hesitatingly.

Oh, what a merry peal of laughter rang through the room! It was a minute or more before he could recover himself, while I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. But laughing is contagious, and soon the absurdity of crying because I had the best husband in the world, and with him everything that heart could desire, caused me to join cordially with him.

However, he soon took both my hands in his, in a manner peculiar to him when he has anything special to say, and resumed, "It is high time, my love, you should know who you are." I will give you the substance of his story.

His father was a man of independent fortune, who died about eight years ago, soon after Frank reached his majority, and a few months subsequent to his graduation from college. Frank had always desired to be a physician, though his father and mother had hoped he would become a minister. The property was by will equally divided among the three, his mother, sister and himself.

Five of the years since his father's death he has spent in Europe, studying his profession, and travelling. During this time he returned twice to see his mother, and to direct about the estate. After this he passed eighteen months in one of the southern cities, practising medicine. Then determining to go abroad again, he passed the winter in Paris, where you remember, I first met him.

"I hardly know," said he, "where I should have been now, if you had said nay to one question, I asked. But I thank God for giving me my sweet wife." This, he said so seriously that I hid my face in his bosom to conceal my tears.

Then in a few words he delineated the person and character of his father, who was a very godly man, distinguished throughout the country for sound judgment, patriotism and benevolence. Frank described the heart-rending affliction of his mother, the asperities of which time had somewhat softened. She is but forty-eight years of age, though I had supposed her much older. She has received frequent proposals for a second marriage; but never for a moment could think of entering the matrimonial state, while her heart was so full of precious recollections of her deceased husband.

The Doctor looked quite serious, as he always does when his countenance is not lighted with a smile. But I diverted his thoughts with the request, "tell me about Emily."

"She is in temperament like my father," he replied, "full of life and spirit; ever ready to weep with those that weep, and to rejoice with those that rejoice; she is just one month older than you, Cora; time will prove," he added pleasantly, as he smoothed back my hair, "which is the wiser."

Thursday, June 4th.

This morning, invitations have been sent to friends of the family for a levee at mother's cottage, in honor of the bride. Frank says my associates in town will be likely to be of a very promiscuous character. To-morrow evening I am to be introduced to the aristocracy, and afterwards to my husband's poor patients, of whom Emily affirms there are no inconsiderable number.

This is a shire town, and a court is in session here, which brings many distinguished members of the legal profession to the place. I am told it contains from eight to ten thousand inhabitants. I have seen some very beautiful country seats; and I should think it well laid out.

There is a principal street running through the centre, lined with houses. Upon it private dwellings are interspersed with shops, stores, ware-rooms, and other places of business. The main street is very wide, and at this season looks finely, with its splendid rows of shade trees.

Within a few years many persons have left their residences in Broad Street, and have built cottages and villas on the forest heights overlooking the village and the surrounding country.

The Doctor was summoned this morning to a sick woman. This is his first professional call since his return; but now I must be reconciled to his leaving me often, as he has a very large practice.

There are more than half a score of regular practitioners in the place, all of whom are invited to mother's levee. Oh, if my friends from home could be there! I find writing a very poor substitute for talking with you. With what delight shall I read your letters. Isabel and Nelly must write about everything, as they promised. Beloved home, parents and sisters, how my heart longs for one more look, one fond embrace.

Friday, June 5th.

My services have been put in requisition at the cottage, or rather my advice (don't laugh, Bell!) has been requested with regard to the arrangements for the table, fruits and flowers. Emily says, I know everything, or ought to, as I was educated in France.

I told her, all I knew was heartily at her service; and straightway the lively girl pulled off my bonnet and gloves, and set me to work, making bouquets for the table.

After this, we entered right merrily into the preparations for the evening, while mother was busily engaged with the cook. We had all things arranged to our minds, and had resolved ourselves into a tasting committee of the various luxuries for the entertainment, when Frank came in and took me home with him.

I had been deliberating about my toilet for the occasion, when he presented me an exquisite bouquet of white flowers, together with some beautiful white moss-rose buds for my hair. I fairly clapped my hands with delight, they reminded me so much of home. I could say nothing in reply but "dear Frank!"